


I Think We're Like the Wind and Sea

by chucknovak



Category: IT - Stephen King, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Meet-Cute, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking, Wheelzier - Freeform, minor lumax, richie's in a band bc its a college au that i wrote lol, some sexual jokes bc it's richie lol, they're like 19-20 tho so it's cool lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 08:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16301831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucknovak/pseuds/chucknovak
Summary: Mike Wheeler is working at the campus bookstore when Richie Tozier comes in one day. Mike agrees to lend him a book, and he grows more and more smitten as they run into each other again and again (thanks to one Max Mayfield).





	I Think We're Like the Wind and Sea

**Author's Note:**

> this is pure fluff lol and i'm honestly so excited about it!! this is my first time writing wheelzier so i hope you guys like it!!
> 
> title taken from the song "brooklyn baby" by lana del rey

Richie Tozier was the last thing Mike Wheeler saw coming.

Mike first met Richie while he was working. Mike stood behind the counter, slouching against it and resting on his elbows. The college bookstore was pretty dead by this point in the semester. Mike watched him walk into the store and pace through the aisles helplessly for a couple minutes before sighing and accepting that he should help this guy.

When he approached him, he was staring blankly at a shelf of books, his hand in his hair. Mike tried not to notice how nice it looked pulled back from his face. “Hi,” Mike smiled, donning his customer service voice. “Can I help you with anything?” Richie turned to Mike, seemingly surprised to find someone talking to him. His hand fell from his hair, allowing his black curls to fall into his eyes – eyes that were impossibly blue, and shamelessly checking Mike out from behind a thick pair of lenses.

“There’s a lot of things you can help me with,” Richie winked. Mike crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, feeling suddenly very hot.

“Anything school related? Like, are you looking for a book?”

“You’re very perceptive,” Richie smirked. Mike was about to just turn and go back to the counter when Richie let the jokes die down a bit. “But yeah, uh, there’s a novel I need for English 220 that I can’t find anywhere.” He told Mike the title, and he searched the shelves and then the computer system for it.

“Looks like we’re all out,” Mike told him apologetically. His heart nearly broke when he saw how defeated Richie looked; who hadn’t been in his position before? “I have a copy of it if you wanna borrow it?” Mike offered, cringing internally at how unprofessional his offer was. But the way Richie’s face lit up made it worth it, and after all, they were both broke college students; he figured it would be good karma.

“Really?” Richie asked in a voice that made Mike’s cheeks pleasantly pink.

“Yeah, you can come by my room any time after eight tonight to pick it up.” Out of nowhere, Richie grabbed Mike’s face and kissed his forehead. Mike pulled away, making a face.

“You are a lifesaver, Mikey,” Richie said, flicking Mike’s nametag. “My prof would’ve castrated me – which would be a real tragedy, believe me,” he added with another wink.

“I’m sure the world would be no worse off,” Mike rolled his eyes, which ended up travelling lower of their own accord… he quickly corrected his mistake, but his cheeks were now even pinker, and he swore there was a glint in Richie’s eyes.

“So I’ll see you at eight?” Richie asked. Mike nodded. Richie smirked as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s a date.” And with that he turned and left, throwing an “I’m Richie, by the way!” over his shoulder. His attitude infuriated Mike, made his skin burn – yet he was kind of looking forward to lending him that book.

 

Mike was _trying_ to do his homework, but he really couldn’t focus on the words he was reading as the clock crept closer and closer to eight o’clock. He had the book Richie was borrowing set out on the corner of his bed, the cover staring up at him, glaring as brightly as the sun. Mike watched the clock turn from 7:59 to 8:00. Then from 8:00 to 8:01. It read 8:09 when there was finally a knock on his door. He started at the sound, quickly marking his page before climbing off his bed, taking a deep breath and smoothing down his hair. He wondered for a moment why he was so nervous before deciding it wasn’t important.

Even though he knew Richie was coming, it was still sort of weird to have someone who was basically a stranger show up at his door. He was also leaned up against the doorframe, and Mike had not been expecting him to be so close when the door opened. Neither of them backed up as they met eyes.

“Hey,” Richie smiled, “long time no see.”

“Yeah, a whole five hours,” Mike scoffed, backing away from the door to let Richie in.

“You mean you’ve been counting the minutes like I have?” Richie asked dreamily.

“Eight minus three is not a complicated math equation,” Mike said, his tone friendly enough as he walked to his bed. He picked up the book, and when he turned around Richie was, again, much closer than Mike had anticipated. Mike was effectively trapped between Richie and his bed. His heart leapt, but he didn’t move – to the point where Richie had to slip the book out of Mike’s hand because he was too busy wondering how many shades of blue were in Richie’s eyes.

“Well pardon my drama major ass for not knowing nuclear physics,” Richie smirked. “Maybe you should tutor me some time.” Richie’s tone teetered just over the edge from joking to suggestive in a way that had Mike feeling the need to tug at his shirt collar.

“How did you know I’m a Physics major?” Mike asked dumbly.

“I could see it in your eyes,” Richie winked. “Nah, but for real there’s a Physics textbook on your bed.” Mike blushed, annoyed at Richie for pointing out the obvious and at himself for missing it. “So, Mr. Physics Major, why’d you need this novel?” Richie asked, waving the book between them and subsequently emphasizing just how little space separated the two of them.

“I’m an English minor,” Mike explained. “I took 220 last year.”

“He does it all,” Richie said, making Mike scoff and blush again.

“I don’t do _all,_ ” he retorted lamely. This just made Richie’s smile widen even further.

“High standards?” Mike was confused at first, but he caught onto why Richie was smirking quickly enough.

“Yes, actually,” he huffed, crossing his arms. They ended up pressed against both his own and Richie’s chest. Mike’s breath hitched as Richie’s eyes fell to his lips.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice low, an almost shocking contrast to his previous snarky tone. “What’s a guy gotta do?” Mike didn’t really understand how they got to this point, and he was too distracted by Richie’s soft, full pink lips to form a response.

He didn’t even hear the key in the door until it was opening. Mike jumped back as Lucas, his best friend and roommate, walked into the room, eyeing him and Richie in confusion. However, he had already been pressed up pretty much flush against his bed, so he didn’t put much more room between Richie and himself.

“Hey, Richie,” Lucas said. Richie turned from Mike then, allowing him to breathe.

“Hey, Lucas!” Richie said, slapping his hand in the classic bro shake Mike had never been able to master. “I didn’t know you knew my good old pal Mikey here.”

“I didn’t know you knew him either,” Lucas replied, his tone somehow both light and suspicious as his eyes bounced between the two of them.

“Oh, we go way back,” Richie said,

“Yeah, all the way back to five hours ago,” Mike chimed in.

“The STEM major strikes again,” Richie winked. Even though there was space between them now, Mike still found it hard to breathe. “Anyway, I gotta go,” Richie said. “I gotta read five chapters of this by tomorrow. I’ll see you later, Lucas.” He patted Lucas on the shoulder on his way out the door. Then, turning in the doorway, he said to Mike, “I’ll see you around.” And with a wink Mike didn’t know how to interpret, he was gone, Mike’s book clutched in his hand.

“So, how do you know Richie?” Lucas asked after a moment of silence, their door still ajar.

“He came into the bookstore today,” Mike answered with a shrug. “How do _you_ know him?”

“He’s friends with Max,” Lucas explained, Max being his girlfriend.

“Oh, well that speaks highly of him,” Mike joked good-naturedly. “He seems… cool,” Mike added after a pause.

“Yeah,” Lucas said, squinting at Mike with a small smile playing at his lips. Mike blushed and went back to studying, hoping that would stop Lucas from saying whatever he was thinking. Thankfully Lucas dropped it, flopping onto his bed and pulling out his phone. Mike let out a small breath of relief.

 

*       *       *

 

Mike really didn’t know how Max had convinced him to come to this party.

Okay, well, actually he did, and it was by saying, “Richie will be there.” But he wasn’t about to admit that, not even to himself. Richie was everything he wasn’t into: loud and brash and flirty. There was no way Mike had a crush on him. He was just really passionate about both third wheeling and being the sober friend of the night, _that_ was why he’d come to this party with Max and Lucas. He also loved standing against a wall drinking Sprite and not talking to anybody.

Never mind the fact that Mike was looking for Richie in the crowd. He brushed it off, figuring he was just looking for anybody he knew. He wasn’t really too keen on talking to new people or getting to know anybody, so a face he knew that wasn’t constantly attached to another face he knew would not be unwelcome to him.

As if he was reading Mike’s mind, Richie entered the room through the doorway across the room. Mike watched him survey the room, his breath hitching when their gazes met. Richie beamed and immediately started on a straight path for Mike. Mike looked away quickly, awkwardly, though he wasn’t quite sure where to fix his gaze, and he knew Richie had seen him staring.

“Wheeler!” Richie’s voice boomed, and Mike only wondered for a second how Richie knew his last name before realizing that Max had probably told Richie about him. Mike unconsciously curled in on himself as Richie approached, crowding into his space even further than he had when they were alone in Mike’s dorm room. “Mikey Mike, Mr. Physics Major, Wheelbarrow,” Richie listed off with a wide grin, “how are you doing tonight?”

“Wheelbarrow? Really?” Mike scowled.

“I thought that one was pretty good, honestly,” Richie replied defensively. Mike almost felt bad until he realized Richie was joking. “So, what’s a pretty boy like you doing standing all alone at a party?” Mike blushed at the pretty comment, curling further into himself and yet leaning closer to Richie at the same time. He was wearing a little too much cologne, but it smelled amazing, and it had Mike’s head swimming despite the fact that he was completely sober.

“I’m Max and Lucas’s sober friend tonight,” he said, “and I don’t really feel like third wheeling a drunk couple.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t socialize.”

“I’m socializing right now,” Mike pointed out, feeling stupid as he heard the words come out of his mouth.

“I came up to you and started talking to you, this conversation was all me,” Richie grinned. “For real though, why would you come to a party and just stand by yourself?”

“I don’t know anyone here,” Mike shrugged, “and I don’t really like just walking up to people and starting conversations, it’s super awkward.”

“This isn’t awkward!” Richie nearly screeched, throwing his hand against his chest in mock offense. “I’m having a great time!”

“That makes one of us,” Mike sighed, but he smiled at Richie anyway.

“Okay, Wheeler, sure, say whatever you want. But those adorable little cheeks of yours a nice bright pink right now.” That made Mike’s smile fade a bit. “So seriously, what’s your deal? Does your boyfriend get jealous easily or something?”

“How do you know I’m not straight?” Mike sputtered, taken aback by the question.

“I like to give people the benefit of the doubt,” Richie grinned. Mike couldn’t help but laugh at that. “See? I knew it, no straight person ever finds that funny. And that’s if they even get it.”

“Okay, so I’m not straight, but I don’t have a boyfriend either.”

“So you’re just genuinely this much of a moody nerd?”

“You know, I don’t have to be talking to you,” Mike huffed, his embarrassment quelled a bit by Richie’s smile.

“And I don’t have to be talking to you,” Richie pointed out, “yet here we both are, talking to each other, not making up any lame excuses to get out of the conversation.” His blue eyes flickered with something Mike couldn’t decipher.

“So how do you know Max?” Mike asked after a moment of charged silence, sipping his Sprite.

“Oh, I’m her weed dealer,” Richie said casually. Mike choked on his soda, making bubbles go up his nose and Richie double over cackling. “Oh man, I was kidding,” he gasped through his laughter as Mike struggled to catch his breath. “We were in the same first year seminar together, we’ve been friends ever since.”

“I can see why she likes you,” Mike coughed. Then, realizing how that sounded, he added, “You guys seem like you would get along.”

“Weed’ll do that,” Richie joked. “Nah, but for real though, she’s really cool. Also, I’m not a dealer, but I do have some on me if you wanna share. No charge for you,” he winked.

“Uh, I’ve never smoked before,” Mike admitted. It wasn’t something he’d ever been ashamed about before, so he didn’t understand why his heart was beating so quickly, or why his cheeks refused to cool down.

“First time for everything,” Richie said, waggling his eyebrows. “No pressure if you don’t want to though, we can kick it sober.”

“Kick it?” Mike asked mockingly, eyeing Richie’s skinny black jeans, band t-shirt, and vibrantly colored windbreaker. “God, you’re like a poster child of the 90s.”  

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Mike giggled at the dopey grin in Richie’s face.

“Also, um, Max made me promise she could be there the first time I got high, so I’m gonna pass tonight,” Mike grinned sheepishly. As if on cue, Max and Lucas came stumbling up to the two of them.

“Richie!” Max exclaimed, transferring herself from under Lucas’s arm to under Richie’s. Richie chuckled as Max kissed his cheek.

“’Sup, carrot top?” he greeted her fondly. “We were just talking about you.” He threw a wink Mike’s way; Mike didn’t really know what to make of it, but he liked the intimacy of it, like it was meant for just the two of them. “Wheelbarrow here tells me you’ve never smoked him up before? I didn’t realize you were such a terrible friend,” Richie chided playfully.

“Not my fault Mike’s a pussy,” Max shrugged. Mike rolled his eyes.

“Such a good friend,” Lucas teased, playing with a lock of Max’s hair.

“I’m not _afraid_ of weed,” Mike said, regretting it as soon as Max’s eyes lit up.

“Alright, so you’ll smoke with us tonight then?” she challenged. _God dammit_ , Mike thought to himself. He could never back down when Max got competitive with him. He was also hyper aware of the way Richie was watching the interaction in amusement.

“I’m babysitting you,” he pointed out to Max, “that means I have to be sober tonight.”

“You will be in three hours tops, I promise,” she said, reaching for his free hand. Mike reluctantly let her take it, feeling himself beginning to cave as she said, “Please? You’ll love it, I know you will.” He looked from Max’s wide eyes to Lucas’s curious gaze to Richie’s quirked eyebrow. He _had_ always wanted to know what it was like to be high, since Max, Lucas, and Dustin always talked so highly of it... and if it meant he got to spend more time with Richie, well, then that was an added bonus.

“Fine,” he said finally, making Max jump up and cheer. Lucas smirked knowingly, shaking his head.

“How’d you get that stick out of his ass?” Max asked Richie.

“I replaced it with something else,” Richie winked at Mike. Max and Lucas mimed gagging, but Mike was anything but grossed out as his entire body flushed at the insinuation.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, unable to think of a comeback as his mind was now otherwise occupied. _God fucking dammit_ , he thought, willing the thoughts of Richie’s joke and its implications out of his mind. “You know, I can still change my mind about this. I could leave you all here.”

“Yeah,” Richie said, stepping closer to Mike, “but I don’t think you will.” Mike froze, entranced by the smirk on his lips and the way his eyes took their time falling to Mike’s lips before flickering back up to meet his eyes. “Come on, I know a spot,” he said to the three of them, leading them out of the party. Mike took a minute to catch his breath before following.

Apparently, according to Richie, “a spot” meant the middle of the woods behind the host’s house. “It’s fucking freezing,” Mike grumbled, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. It was late September, and though the days were still warm, the nighttime temperatures had begun to drop drastically.

“Wanna cuddle for warmth?” Richie offered, bumping Mike’s shoulder with his own as he packed weed into the bowl of a small pipe. Mike rolled his eyes and let them fall to the piece, admiring the purple and green swirls contained within the glass. Max had teased Richie about it, called it his “Barney Bowl,” but Mike liked it. He liked watching Richie pack it, his slim, pale fingers working deftly, skillfully. (For all Mike knew about weed Richie could’ve been doing an awful job, but he was still impressed nonetheless.) “You wanna do the honors of taking the first hit?” Richie offered. Mike looked up to Max and Lucas for guidance, but they were too caught up in each other to offer any. Mike shook his head.

“Can you… can you show me?” he asked timidly, suddenly embarrassed that he was a nineteen-year-old college kid who didn’t know how to smoke. But Richie didn’t seem to be judging him at all.

“Yeah, of course,” he said easily, producing a lighter from his pocket.

“Does your lighter have fucking Lightning McQueen on it?” Mike snorted, the absurdity of it and Richie’s amused grin calming his nerves.

“Kachow,” was all Richie had to say to that. Mike shook his head, but he couldn’t help the laugh that slipped past his lips. “Alright physics boy, you paying attention?” Richie asked, holding up the bowl and lighter in each hand. Mike nodded, his lips still somewhat quirked at the corner. His smile quickly smoothed out as Richie brought the piece to his mouth. He watched with rapt attention as Richie’s lips wrapped gently around the end of the piece, the blue and orange flicker of the lighter suddenly illuminating his face, reflecting off his glasses and highlighting his eyebrows, slightly drawn together in concentration. The harsh flame cast shadows across his face, exaggerating the sharp line of his cheekbones and the way his cheeks hollowed as he inhaled. He pulled the pipe away from his lips, inhaling some more. Mike was barely breathing as Richie tipped his head back, the column of his throat glinting white in the moonlight, the curve of his jaw sharp and prominent and shadowed. Mike watched in fascination as, after a moment, a plume of smoke left Richie’s lips, climbing up toward the patchwork treetops. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the smell, but the sweet-yet-skunky aroma was much stronger than he’d ever experienced, having only smelt it on people’s clothes, or in passing.

It took Mike, barely breathing at that point, a moment to realize that Richie was holding the pipe out to him. He smiled sheepishly as he took it, balancing it awkwardly between his inexperienced fingers. “You have to breathe in while I light it,” Richie explained with a patient smile, his fingers covering Mike’s as he guided the piece to Mike’s lips. Mike’s lips parted around the end of the pipe, the glass smooth on his hypersensitive skin, and warm, from being in Richie’s pocket, he presumed. His eyes met Richie’s as the latter explained, “Okay, so you’re gonna breathe in when I light it, then keep breathing in when I pull the piece away, okay? Nice and deep, you really wanna make sure your lungs are full, puffed out chest, singer’s breath sort of deal.” Mike nodded. “Ready?” Another nod. And with that, Richie was lighting the bowl. Mike watched the contents of the bowl glow and smolder as he inhaled. For a short moment he didn’t feel much, but suddenly warm smoke was crawling its way down his throat. It stung, but Mike continued to inhale after Richie pulled the piece from his lips, just as he’d been instructed. He looked to the sky as Richie had as he let the smoke float from his lips. However, while the moonlit cloud floated away gracefully, Mike felt like he was exhaling glass. He was quickly doubled over coughing, vaguely aware of a chorus of friendly laughter and a comforting hand on his back. “There ya go!” he heard Richie say. “You did good!”

Mike straightened up, wiping his eyes, which had become wet from coughing so hard. He slung his backpack off his shoulder and rummaged around for his water bottle, chugging swigs of it as soon as he could. “Aw, how sweet,” Max cooed as Mike gulped for air. He swatted her hand away as she pinched his flushed cheeks. “Baby’s first hit!”

“Fuck off,” Mike croaked, taking another sip of water.

“Michael!” Richie gasped. “Where did you learn that kind of language?” Mike was almost glad his throat hurt too much to reply, as he couldn’t think of anything better to say than “your mom,” which he didn’t see as a very viable option.

“You did good for your first time,” Lucas said, clapping Mike on the back. Mike rolled his eyes, not missing the laughter in Lucas’s voice. Max slipped the pipe and lighter from Richie’s hands, inhaling and exhaling the smoke as if it were oxygen being converted into carbon dioxide. Mike watched enviously as Lucas did the same before passing it back to Richie.

Mike had watched Max, Lucas, and Dustin smoke a dozen times and had never thought much of the process. But watching Richie, it was like time slowed down. Mike paid attention to the delicate way his fingers held the pipe, the way his thumb glided easily against the lighter, igniting the flame (Mike couldn’t figure out how to light a lighter to save his life), how the flame flickered orange in the blue of his eyes. Mike felt a different kind of fire ignite in himself as those eyes met his own, Richie slowly pulling the piece away from his lips. Mike didn’t realize he was staring at Richie’s mouth until he saw it quirk up into a smirk before turning up toward the sky again, smoke billowing between his pink lips. Mike swallowed hard, his throat dry. “You wanna go for another?” Richie asked, holding the pipe out to Mike.

“Aw, go easy on him,” Max giggled. “He just nearly died.”

Mike had been apprehensive, but he refused to back down from what was so obviously another challenge. Mike took the piece from Richie determinedly, much to the amusement of the other three. However, though he’d been confident in taking the pipe, he knew he wouldn’t be able to light it, and he wasn’t about to embarrass himself by trying and failing five times in a row. So, he met Richie’s eyes, his own brown ones wide, and asked, “Can you light it for me?” Something dark flashed momentarily through Richie’s eyes, something alluring that was gone all too soon for Mike’s liking.

“Sure thing,” Richie smirked, “but you gotta get your mouth on it first.” Though Mike’s cheeks turned pink at that, he refused to look away or seem flustered; instead, he did what he was told, looking to Richie expectantly. He held back a smirk when Richie hesitated, his smirk faltering for a moment as his eyes went wide. He quickly recovered, but Mike had still seen it, and it gave him the confidence to take much too big a hit. Still, even though he proceeded to cough up a lung again, making the other three laugh, he felt good about that one moment.

Though his throat still felt raw, it got easier with each round. Max and Lucas tapped out after a couple more hits, leaving Richie and Mike to finish the second bowl Richie had packed between the two of them. They traded on and off, sharing Mike’s water bottle, taking a sip while the other took a hit. Mike got so distracted by the way a stray droplet of water ran down Richie’s jaw that he almost burned his finger on the flame of the lighter (which Richie had helped him light). His skin buzzed every time they switched and their fingers brushed.

Mike thought he was pretty much sober until they started the walk back. The woods were dark, the ground uneven, and Mike felt himself reaching out and grabbing Richie’s arm to steady himself, adjusting to his altered depth perception. “Shit,” he muttered, gripping onto Richie’s arm like it was the last lifeboat on a sinking ship. Richie chuckled.

“How’re ya feeling?”

“Good,” Mike giggled. “A little weird, but my mind and thoughts feel normal.”

“That’s good,” Richie said, amusement clear in his voice. “You want some help?” he offered, wrapping an arm around Mike’s waist. Mike just nodded, too distracted by the warm, literally fuzzy feeling of Richie holding him so closely to form words. Max and Lucas followed behind them, leaning against each other as well, but they seemed far away as Mike’s arm slipped under Richie’s unzipped sweatshirt and his fingers gripped the back of Richie’s shirt, the fabric pleasantly cool against his warm palms. Mike was glad Richie seemed to know the way, as he was genuinely lost as to where they were until suddenly they were out on the street. For some reason the abrupt appearance of asphalt beneath his feet was absolutely hilarious to Mike. He snorted out a small laugh, which was soon followed by a small gale of giggles, which quickly turned into all four of them doubled over laughing in the middle of the street, Richie and Mike’s forehead bumping together as they leaned into each other. Mike’s breath caught when he realized how close Richie’s face was to his own. In the glow of the streetlight he could see Richie’s face much more clearly; how soft the skin of his cheeks looked, the freckles that danced across the slightly crooked bridge of his nose, the way his glasses slid down it, too big on him. His eyes were hooded, blue irises rimmed red, and trained on Mike’s.

Mike was ripped from his near-trance-like state by Max gasping. “Can we go to a diner?” she asked, her tone sounding as though she’d just found the answer to a math problem she’d been working on for hours.

“ _Fuck_ yes,” Richie agreed emphatically. He removed himself from Mike’s side, leaving the latter feeling cold and solitary. However, he took Mike’s hand in his own as he announced, “There’s a bus stop up the street, the 42 will take us to Sally’s.” Mike couldn’t wipe the grin off his face as he looked at his and Richie’s intertwined fingers, admiring the way Richie swung their hands just slightly as they walked.

The light at the bus stop was dim and buzzing. Max and Lucas huddled together on the bench, but Richie and Mike stayed standing. Mike studied the bus schedule intensely, acutely aware of that Richie’s thumb was stroking circles into his skin. He leaned instinctively into Richie’s side, not realizing just how far he’d been leaning until his head met Richie’s shoulder. Mike was 5’11”, so not short by any means, but he figured Richie had to be at least 6’3” or 6’4” to tower over Mike the way he did. Mike liked it; he liked the way Richie’s head rested atop his own. If he’d turned around he would’ve seen Max and Lucas sharing knowing looks, smirking at the other pair. But he didn’t turn around, nor did he notice their reactions, as he was far too caught up in how soft Richie’s sweatshirt was against his cheek, too busy memorizing what his cologne smelled like, relishing in the fact that Richie wanted to be this close to him at all.

Mike fumbled for his student ID as the bus rolled up, once again mourning the loss of contact when he and Richie pulled away from one another to board the bus. The lights inside the bus were glaringly bright, so bright that Mike almost squinted, and the air conditioning was on way too high. He and Richie sat next to each other, Max and Lucas claiming the two seats behind them. Mike huddled in on himself, rubbing his hands along his goosebump-covered arms in an attempt to warm them, cursing himself for not wearing another layer. “You want my sweatshirt?” Richie offered. Mike started, surprised by the sudden noise in the eerie silence of the bus, despite the fact that Richie was practically whispering. He let the offer sink in, thinking about how cold he was, how soft Richie’s sweatshirt was, how it probably smelled like him.

“I’m good,” he said, shaking his head and flashing Richie a grateful smile. “Thanks, though.” Richie shrugged, turning his face back to the window, though there was scarcely anything to be seen in the dark. Mike took the opportunity to admire his profile, now that the lighting was much better. His eyes traced the line of his jaw, the way his hair curled, the curve of his lips. They looked so soft, and Mike wanted so badly to trace his thumb across them, to feel them on his own. Embarrassed by how badly he wanted that, he turned to stare at the seat in front of him, allowing himself to get lost in the texture for what felt like half an hour but could only have been a handful of minutes, as the drive to the diner was fairly short, and they still weren’t there yet. Mike felt Richie move next to him, felt his eyes on him, and it was only when Richie draped his arm around Mike’s shoulder that he realized he was huddling in on himself again.

“God, you’re cold,” Richie remarked, pulling Mike closer into his side.

“It’s cold in here,” Mike said, unable to think of anything else to say as he looked at Richie, his face so close to his own. Richie chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Mike wanted to lean further in, wanted to feel Richie’s smile against his own.

“Mike Wheeler is unprepared?” Max gasped, yanking Mike from his Richie-induced trance. “Mark your calendars, folks.” Mike rolled his eyes and tried to sit up straighter, but he was so comfortable, he felt like he was sinking into the bus seat, into Richie’s embrace, so he stayed put.

“I’m not complaining,” Richie smirked.

“I don’t think Mike is either,” Max said, making Lucas snort.

“I’ve been complaining about being cold all night,” Mike said defensively, feeling stupid as he said it.

“Don’t think that’s what they’re talking about,” Lucas chimed in, very unhelpfully. Luckily, they reached Sally’s just then, the voice of the bus driver over the intercom cutting off any more teasing as the bus screeched to a less-than-smooth halt. Mike got off first, hiding his pink cheeks from the others.

The restaurant was pretty empty, seeing as it was almost midnight. Richie slid past Mike, leaning his elbows on the front counter and smiling up at the middle-aged-going-on-old woman at the computer. “Table for four, please.” The woman, her hair a light ashy blonde and skin a wrinkled tan, grinned playfully at Richie.

“Booth?”

“You know me so well,” he winked at her. It made something uncomfortable settle in Mike’s chest. So he did that with everyone then.

The four of them followed the blonde lady – Patty, according to her name tag – to a booth tucked away in the corner of the diner. “You been cryin’, Rich?” Patty smirked as they sat down. “Your eyes are bloodshot to hell.” Mike’s heart stopped in his chest at that, but the other three just laughed it off, and Patty just smiled and walked away after placing the menus on the table.

Richie was lounging against the wall, on arm resting on the table and the other over the back of the booth. Mike was sat beside him, hyper aware of how close his arm was to being around him. They passed the menus around, and even though Mike wasn’t particularly hungry, he found himself craving a vanilla milkshake and a grilled cheese. “Get anything you want, Wheelbarrow,” Richie whispered in Mike’s ear, much closer than Mike had realized. “It’s on me.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Mike insisted, turning his head only slightly, as their faces would be much too close if he fully faced him – at least with Max and Lucas there, anyway. Mike felt Richie’s fingers lightly stroking his hair, felt his eyes scanning his face.

“I know. But I’m going to anyway.” Mike pursed his lips, debating whether or not to object. “Come on, pumpkin, let me buy you dinner,” Richie urged, an irresistible smile on his lips.

“Pumpkin?” Mike scoffed. “For that, you owe me this food now.”

“You don’t like it?” Richie asked, his lips twitching up into a smile. “But it’s seasonal!”

“I think I like Wheelbarrow better,” Mike rolled his eyes, because he couldn’t lie; though the pet name was cheesy, it made him feel… nice.

“You’re right,” Richie nodded sagely, “that one is seasonal _and_ a genius original.”

“I don’t think I’d go that far,” Mike said, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

“How far are you going?” Max asked, her drunkenness evident as she winked at Richie. Mike rolled his eyes, inexpressibly grateful when Patty came over to take their orders.

The conversation carried on without Mike after that, as he got lost in thought, lost in the warped reflections of the mirror lining one of the walls, in the swirled pattern of the tile on the floor. Even the specked design of the tabletop was fascinating. It was familiar somehow, like he’d seen it somewhere when he was really young. He distantly felt Richie’s fingers running absently over his shoulder, the gentle touch sending waves of tingling sparkles across his skin, making him grin to himself.  

Mike was kind of astounded by the amount of food they had ordered, but he eagerly ate bits of everything: his own grilled cheese, pickle, and vanilla milkshake, but also Richie’s chocolate milkshake and lasagna (“Who the fuck orders lasagna at a diner?” “People with taste, _Maxwell_.”); Max’s chocolate chip pancakes; Lucas’s French toast; and the communal curly fries. Everything tasted great, but Mike found he was just really enjoying stuffing his face in general. He happily let Richie feed him forkfuls of lasagna and agreed to split his pickle with him. (And no, Richie did not let that innuendo go unspoken). Lucas and Max were too busy throwing fries into each other’s mouths to notice the way Mike leaned further into Richie with every chance he got.

Mike was so full he almost felt sick by the time they left, the four of them making their way to the bus stop outside the restaurant. Richie’s hand has slipped into his, and he held onto it gratefully. Lucas and Max were wrapped around each other, whispering to one another, giggling over something only they heard. Mike smiled at them, his heart swelling with affection for both of them. “How are you feeling?” Richie asked.

“Really good,” Mike answered, turning his head to smile at Richie. “Still a little cold, but good.” Richie smiled softly at him before shucking his sweatshirt off. Mike missed the warmth of his hand in his, but the smell of Richie’s cologne surrounded him once the sweatshirt was on, so he couldn’t really complain, especially when Richie stepped closer to him. He rubbed his hands up and down Mike’s arms, their noses brushing slightly. Mike’s breath caught as Richie smiled down at him.

“Better?” he asked. Mike nodded.

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Thanks.”

“Any time.”

The bus screeching to a halt beside them made Mike jump. Richie laughed at him. Mike swatted at him weakly, but there was a smile on his face, and it only got wider as Richie placed a large, comforting hand on the small of his back to guide him onto the bus. They huddled together in the seat they chose, right behind Max and Lucas. Mike felt much more sober than he had on the ride to the diner, only slightly fuzzy now. He let Richie put his arm around him, rested his head against Richie’s shoulder, his eyes closing. He barely noticed Lucas and Max saying goodnight, both of them getting off at Max’s stop. “You’re not getting off here?” Mike asked.

“Nah, I gotta make sure this cute boy gets home safe,” he grinned. Mike grinned too and cuddled further into Richie, feeling safe in the privacy of the deserted back end of the bus.

The walk from the bus stop to Mike’s dorm was too short for Mike’s liking. He wanted to stay out, wanted to keep walking in the cold breeze with Richie’s hand in his for hours. The elevator ride to Mike’s floor was companionably silent, yet charged with all of the things Mike wanted to but couldn’t say. Once he got to his door, he turned to Richie, beginning to take the sweatshirt off. “You can give that to me the next time you see me,” Richie said.

“You sure?” Mike asked dubiously. Richie gave him a tired but genuine grin, pulling the sweatshirt back onto Mike’s shoulders.

“Yeah,” he answered, “gives me an excuse to see you again.”

“You know, you could just text me,” Mike grinned.

“Yeah, but this is more romantic.” Mike blushed at that. Richie stiffened a bit before he said, “Hey, I’m sorry for that joke I made earlier.”

“Which one?” Mike scoffed light heartedly.

“The one about the stick up your ass,” Richie chuckled sheepishly, a look Mike had yet to see on him. “Or, my dick, I guess. That was kind of out of line, so, sorry if I was being a jackass.”

“It’s okay,” Mike said softly, weirdly touched by the apology. Little did he know that Mike hadn’t minded at all; because yeah, Richie probably had crossed a line with that one, but it was a line Mike didn’t mind him crossing. “I mean, you’re a jackass all the time, so,” he added with a playful smirk.

“You wound me, Wheelbarrow,” Richie pouted. Then, with a relieved grin, “So I’ll see you around?”

“You don’t have to go,” Mike blurted out. “I mean, if it’s a far walk, you can stay here since Lucas is out, or if you wanted to hang out or something.” Mike was blushing furiously, bumbling over his words. But Richie’s eyes softened as he smiled at him.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked. Mike hesitated before nodding, his heart in this throat. Richie’s lips turned up in a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes, which were scanning over Mike’s face.

“I’m not really tired,” Mike explained, desperate to fill the silence. Richie bit his lip, his eyes flickering between Mike’s.

“I kind of am,” Richie said apologetically. Mike’s sinking heart jolted upright when Richie took his hand loosely in his own. “You should probably get some sleep too. But I’ll see you soon!” Richie beamed.

“Yeah,” Mike smiled weakly, “I’ll see you around.”

And with that Richie turned and walked away, leaving Mike with a confused and lovesick heart alone in his bed, pondering what had just happened, what the night had meant.

 

*       *       *

 

The next Friday night found Mike in a small club, sitting at a table with Max, Lucas, Dustin, and Richie’s friends Bill, Ben, and Eddie. Richie and some of his other friends were playing a concert that Max had convinced him to come to. Mike hadn’t seen Richie since the other night, though he had received a few Snapchats. It was actually Richie who had invited Mike to come to the concert, but it was Max who pestered him enough for him to concede.

Mike picked idly at the fries he was supposedly sharing with Dustin, his stomach in knots at the thought of seeing Richie again. As if on cue, the lights on the stage flashed purple, and out walked Richie, accompanied by three people who Ben informed him were Mike, Beverly, and Stan. Mike’s breath hitched; the purple light wound through Richie’s black curls, lit up his eyes in a mesmerizing shade of indigo, showed off the straight, prominent lines of his face. He and Beverly both introduced the band, Richie leaving Mike once again in awe of the effortless way he presented himself.

The music, though not Mike’s personal taste, was pretty good; but what Mike really enjoyed about the performance was just watching Richie. He got so lost in the music, got this smile on his face and this look of genuine joy in his eyes that made Mike’s mind hazy with affection. He felt himself smiling in spite of himself as he watched Richie’s eyebrows draw together, as he listened to him croon into the microphone. His voice wasn’t conventionally smooth, but it fit the songs he sang perfectly, and Mike was amazed by his changes in tone and inflection. He also loved watching his lips curve around the lyrics, loved watching his fingers run along the neck of the guitar. He loved the way he threw his head back after a chorus, his riotous curls flying around his face, his neck exposed, lower lip pulled between his prominent front teeth, glasses charmingly askew. Given that the venue was small and their group was large, Richie found them easily, throwing a wink at them from time to time.

The four of them made their way over to the table a few minutes after their set ended. Beverly took a seat on Ben’s lap, kissing him briefly but sweetly. “Do I get one, Haystack?” Richie asked as he approached the table, a playful grin lighting up his face. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead, which was glistening with a thin layer of sweat.

“Get your own,” Bev shot back with a wink.

“Well, shit, Bev, I’m trying,” Richie said as he pulled a chair up beside Mike’s.

The group spent a while at the restaurant, gradually tapering off as people went home and as the couples left. Eventually it was just Mike, Richie, Dustin, and Bill. The conversation had somehow turned to the ocean, which led to Mike revealing that he had never seen it before. “What?” Richie asked, whirling to face him. “You’ve never seen the ocean?” He sounded outraged, like the universe had personally targeted Mike, who now shrugged.

“I’m from Indiana,” he explained. “And I’m never here during the summer.”

“You don’t need to go during the summer,” Richie scoffed. “Let’s go right now.”

“Now?” Mike asked incredulously. “Isn’t the beach more than two hours from here?”

“Yeah!” Richie exclaimed. “Road trip, you and me, Wheelbarrow. Let’s go.” He stood up from his hair, slinging his jacket over his shoulder and holding his hand out to Mike.

“It’s almost eleven!” Mike screeched, but he took Richie’s hand anyway.

“Well then I guess we better get a move on, huh?” Richie grinned, pulling Mike up. “Don’t wait up,” he told Bill as he began leading Mike out of the restaurant, “I won’t be home for a while.” Mike caught a brief glimpse of Bill shaking his head and Dustin laughing in delighted confusion before the cold October air hit his skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the restaurant.

Richie led him to the parking lot, climbing into the driver’s seat of a dark green 2003 Jeep Grand Cherokee. Mike slid into the passenger seat, feeling a bit like he was sliding into the past, given the age of the car. The car smelled strongly of pine and weed, and then, more faintly, of cigarettes. “Do you smoke?” Mike asked.

“Only weed now,” Richie said, starting the engine with only minimal effort, to Mike’s surprise and relief. “I quit cigarettes almost a year ago, but the smell won’t fuckin’ leave,” he smiled apologetically. “I usually drive with the windows down though, which helps with the smell.” He rolled the windows down then, and the wind came floating in as he pulled out of the parking lot. Mike breathed it in deeply, closing his eyes and resting his head against the door frame. “Already falling asleep on me?” Richie teased.

“It’s late,” Mike smirked, “entertain me if you want me to stay up.”

“Hope you like good music,” Richie said, sliding a CD into the stereo.

“I’ve been told I don’t,” Mike snorted, but he settled in, ready to listen.

“Same,” Richie beamed.

The drive was amazing. They kept the windows down until they got on the highway, and even though the air in the car was thick with various different heady smells, he enjoyed the insulation of sound; just their conversation and Richie’s endless supply of mixtapes to be heard. The highway was practically empty, a vast and open expanse of black asphalt and white dashed lines, streaks of streetlamp light flickering in and out as they drove, green signs passing by. Mike didn’t even need to navigate, as apparently Richie knew the route by heart, so he just sat back and enjoyed the ride, enjoyed Richie’s company, how his voice got soft but never lost its enthusiasm as they spoke. Mike had to yell at him about keeping his hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road when he got too into a song, but other than that the ride went smoothly. Mike was only faintly aware that he had been turning more and more in his seat to face Richie, his eyes focused on his wild smile and bright eyes rather than the mountains fading to hills as they neared the shore.

He turned his attention back to the scenery around him as they took an exit off the highway, strip malls fading into an idyllic suburb full of picturesque Victorians with sprawling lawns. There was something hauntingly beautiful about them, their dark and empty driveways, curtain-covered windows, abandoned for the fall and winter. It made Mike want to reach for Richie’s hand.

Suddenly the houses broke apart, revealing a sight Mike had only seen in movies: the world dropping off, giving way to a giant expanse of midnight blue barely distinguishable from the sky. He gasped, leaning forward in his seat as they drove straight toward the coast. The view only became clearer as Richie pulled into a vast, deserted parking lot. “Wow,” he breathed as Richie killed the ignition. He barely registered that Richie was staring at him with a dopey, awestruck grin.

“You like it?” he asked, chuckling when Mike just nodded. “Come on, it’s even nicer up close.” And with that was he was getting out of the car and retrieving a couple of blankets and a towel from the back seat. Mike pulled himself from his daze to follow. A thrill went through his body when Richie grabbed his hand and led him down to the beach. His shoes sunk into the sand, and pretty soon they were filled with the stuff, but he didn’t mind; he loved it. He loved the way the waves crashed and rolled and _roared_ , so much louder than the movies had him expecting. Suddenly, a few feet before the sand dropped down to meet the water, Richie stopped, dropping the blankets and towel and Mike’s hand. It took Mike a second to tear his eyes away from the water, and his cheeks went pink as soon as he did – because Richie had already taken off his shirt and was now working on his jeans.

“What are you doing?” Mike giggled as Richie nearly tripped over himself.

“Well I’m not gonna get my clothes wet,” he said, as if it was obvious.

“You’re going _swimming_?” Mike asked incredulously.

“ _You_ were planning on coming all the way to the ocean just to look at it?” Richie grinned, his voice a playfully mocking exaggeration of Mike’s disbelief.

“Shouldn’t there be a life guard on duty? Won’t it be cold?” Mike asked, hating the whiny, worried tone in his voice. But Richie smiled fondly at him and sauntered closer.

“I’ll warm you up when we get out,” he smirked, running his hands down Mike’s arms. “And if you drown I’ll give you mouth to mouth.” His wink had Mike rolling his eyes, but the insinuation of Richie’s lips on his had him blushing still.

“All right, fuck it, fine,” Mike conceded, stepping back slightly to take off his own sweater. His skin was covered in goosebumps as soon as it was exposed to the ocean breeze, but he continued taking his pants off anyway. Richie was right, there was no way he _wasn’t_ gonna go swimming after driving all the way out to the ocean for the first time in his life.

“Ready?” Richie asked excitedly once they were both down to their boxer briefs, his glasses folded neatly on top of his haphazardly discarded clothes. Mike nodded, his lips twitching up in a nervous smile. “Let’s fucking go!” Richie exclaimed, bolting toward the water. Mike followed at his heels, giggling as he watched Richie run headlong into the waves, falling under their rolling power. But Mike stopped short, fear suddenly seizing him as the white foam surrounded his feet. He watched Richie pop up from the water and shake his hair out. Mike grinned fondly at him, comfortable in the knowledge that Richie couldn’t see it with his glasses off, even as he called out to him, “What are you waiting for? Get your pansy ass in here, Wheeler!”

“How?” Mike shouted back after a moment of hesitation. Richie came running out of the water then, stumbling as a small wave crashed around his legs. He looked beautiful, his nearly white skin glowing a soft blue in the moonlight, complementing his wide eyes and the water droplets falling from his curls. He smelled like the air around them, salty and fresh as he took Mike’s hand.

“It’s all in the timing,” he grinned, leading Mike closer to the drop-off. Mike flinched at the temperature of the water circling around his calves, but as he adjusted he realized it wasn’t too bad. Still, Richie chuckled as he shivered. “That’ll get a lot better once you get your head under.”

“Well you’ve gotta teach me how to get in first,” Mike reminded him pointedly.

“You gotta wait for a break in the waves and then just go for it,” Richie instructed, his wild grin making Mike’s heart race. He turned his blue eyes to the water, and Mike could tell just from the grip he had on his hand that he was getting his body ready to run. “And… now!” Richie exclaimed. He let go of Mike’s hand, but this time Mike actually followed him, allowing the water to engulf him.

It was cold as first, and the movement wasn’t something Mike was used to, but it felt amazing. He could feel his boxers clinging to his skin, could feel the water over his limbs and his hair floating around his head. He came up for air, somewhat frantic as he wiped the water from his eyes and searched for Richie. He calmed down as soon as Richie’s head popped up from the water. His hair was comically plastered to his head and looked even more ridiculous when he pushed it back. Mike laughed at him, earning himself a splash before the two settled into the water. Thankfully, the water was fairly calm now that they were past the drop-off, so he and Richie could take a moment to just wade in the water. Mike was grateful for the fact that he could feel sand beneath his feet. He admired the way Richie beamed at him, the look in his eyes warming Mike despite the chilled air and water.

“So?”

“This is… really nice,” Mike grinned.

“Okay, so if a wave comes, you dive into it before it breaks so you go under it, okay?” Richie instructed, clearly very excited to be Mike’s teacher.

“Got it,” Mike nodded, though now he was suddenly worried. “What happens if I don’t do that?”

Richie shrugged. “You close your mouth, hold your breath, and let the wave pummel you like a dish rag in a washing machine until you can tell which way is up again.” Mike’s eyes must’ve widened quite a bit at that, because Richie laughed heartily, throwing himself back into the water. “Oh man, it’s not that bad. A little scary sometimes, but as long as you don’t swallow any water you’ll be fine. You might get a few scrapes from the sand and shells, but other than that you’ll be a-okay.” Then, after a moment of consideration, he added, “Well, unless I _also_ get fucked by the wave and end up kicking you in the head, but I’m an expert, so you don’t need to worry about that.” Mike rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help his grin, and he swam closer to Richie anyway.

“You think you’re stronger than the ocean?” he scoffed.

“Hell yeah!” Richie threw his arms up out of the water, flexing what little muscle there was to be found in his biceps. “You see these guns? Poseidon doesn’t wanna fuck with this.”

“Very impressive,” Mike giggled.

“I know it,” Richie grinned proudly.

Mike didn’t know how long they spent in the water, just talking and laughing and diving under the occasional wave. Mike found that he really liked swimming under waves, he liked the way the wave would roll over him and brush his hair back. He also like laughing at Richie when he got the timing wrong and ate shit (something Mike suspected he did purely to make Mike laugh). “Shit, your lips are turning blue,” Richie said to Mike suddenly, swimming into his space to get a better look. Mike hadn’t even realized how cold he was until he felt Richie’s hands on his arms under the water. “Come on, I’ll teach you how to get out.” Mike followed Richie’s lead, both of them stumbling over the rolling foam. The chilled air had Mike wrapping his arms around himself, his body shivering almost violently. The sand stuck uncomfortably to his wet feet as they kicked through it, a new and strange sensation that was almost more unpleasant than the cold. His cheeks at least warmed up significantly when Richie wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him into his somehow warm body.

He threw the towel at Mike once they got back to the blankets, using one of the blankets to dry himself off. He then lay back on the blanket that was still spread across the sand, smiling dopily up at Mike as he put his glasses back on. Mike laid down next to him on his back, staring up at the vast expanse of stars. His fingers brushed up against Richie’s, and the slight touch was enough to send electricity coursing through his body. He listened to the ocean churn, looked up at the sky, felt Richie beside him, and as it all came together he felt a sudden rush of joy and gratitude and amazement. He sat up then, propping himself up on one elbow as he leaned over Richie. His eyes roamed over his face, appreciating every freckle and fleck of blue in his eyes. Richie looked at him questioningly, an amused grin on his face. Mike’s eyes got stuck on that grin, on the soft pink color of Richie’s lips. When he looked back up to Richie’s eyes they were wide but inviting. Mike took a shaky breath as he leaned down, hesitating for only a second before bringing his lips to Richie’s. His lips were soft and impossibly warm, and as their lips moved together Mike could taste the salt from the waves. Richie’s hand was cradling the back of Mike’s head then, pulling him close as he deepened the kiss. They pulled apart to catch their breath eventually, both of them smiling at each other in subtle wonder.

“Thanks for tonight,” Mike smiled softly.

“Baby, you don’t need to thank me for that kiss, the pleasure was all mine.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “I meant for taking me to the beach, numbskull.”

“ _Numbskull?_ ” Richie repeated, throwing his hand to his chest in mock offense. “You know, you’re giving me a lot of mixed signals here Wheeler. I thought you liked me.”

Mike smiled softly at him again. “I do like you,” he said. “I like you a lot.” And though he was smiling, his heart was threatening to jump out of his chest.

Richie eyes widened a bit before he admitted, “I like you, too.” Mike felt the tension release from his chest, and when Richie pulled him in for another kiss he smiled into it.

The drive back was quieter than the ride there, but Richie drove with one hand on the wheel and the other interlaced with Mike’s, and the way he rubbed his thumb over Mike’s skin was a welcome sensation that sent pleasant chills across Mike’s skin. He leaned up against the car while Richie put gas in it and admired the way the golden light of the lamp post overhead lit up his black curls in an almost heavenly way. Richie caught him looking and walked over to him, pushing him gently up against the car to press kisses to his lips and neck. Mike giggled happily and wrapped his arms around Richie’s waist, barely letting him go to pay for the gas.

He stayed by the car while Richie went inside the attached convenience store. He sighed happily, watching on in unabashed adoration as Richie leaned his gangly body on the counter, flashing a smile at the cashier and running a hand through his still slightly damp hair. Mike found himself smiling in spite of himself, yearning eagerly for the drive back and for everything that would follow.  

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! [shameless plug]: my tumblr is @bi-beverie if you wanna hmu (; i post some stuff there that i don't always post here lol


End file.
